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The pigeon-mothers said to their young ones: "Stand in
groups, stand in groups! for that looks much better."
"What kind of creatures are those little grey ones that run
about behind us?" asked an old pigeon, with red and green in her eyes.
"Little grey ones! Little grey ones!" she cried.
"They are sparrows, and good creatures. We have always had the
reputation of being pious, so we will allow them to pick up the corn
with us; they don't interrupt our talk, and they scrape so prettily
when they bow."
Indeed they were continually making three foot-scrapings with
the left foot and also said "Peep!" By this means they recognised each
other, for they were the sparrows from the nest on the burned house.
"Here is excellent fare!" said the sparrow. The pigeons strutted
round one another, puffed out their chests mightily, and had their own
private views and opinions.
"Do you see that pouter pigeon?" said one to the other. "Do you
see how she swallows the peas? She eats too many, and the best ones
too.
"Do you
see how she swallows the peas? She eats too many, and the best ones
too. Curoo! Curoo! How she lifts her crest, the ugly, spiteful
creature! Curoo! Curoo!" And the eyes of all sparkled with malice.
"Stand in groups! Stand in groups! Little grey ones, little grey ones!
Curoo, curoo, curoo!"
So their chatter ran on, and so it will run on for thousands of
years. The sparrows ate lustily; they listened attentively, and even
stood in the ranks with the others, but it did not suit them at all.
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I am old Margaret, that lived in the
house on the dyke."
"Well, and what have you done- what great deed have you
performed down below?"
"I have done nothing at all in the world that could give me a
claim to have these doors open for me," she said. "It would be only
through mercy that I can be allowed to slip in through the gate."
"In what manner did you leave the world?" he asked, just for the
sake of saying something; for it made him feel very weary to stand
there and wait.
"How I left the world?" she replied; "why, I can scarcely tell
you. During the last years of my life I was sick and miserable, and
I was unable to bear creeping out of bed suddenly into the frost and
cold. Last winter was a hard winter, but I have got over it all now.
There were a few mild days, as your honor, no doubt, knows. The ice
lay thickly on the lake, as far one could see. The people came from
the town, and walked upon it, and they say there were dancing and
skating upon it, I believe, and a great feasting.
The sound of
beautiful music came into my poor little room where I lay. Towards
evening, when the moon rose beautifully, though not yet in her full
splendor, I glanced from my bed over the wide sea; and there, just
where the sea and sky met, rose a curious white cloud. I lay looking
at the cloud till I observed a little black spot in the middle of
it, which gradually grew larger and larger, and then I knew what it
meant- I am old and experienced; and although this token is not
often seen, I knew it, and a shuddering seized me.
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No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had any
one given here even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept
along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The
snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her
shoulders, but she regarded them not.
Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory
smell of roast goose, for it was New-year's eve- yes, she remembered
that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond
the other, she sank down and huddled herself together.
In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond
the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn
her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and
she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take
home even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her;
besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only
the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the
largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little
hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match
might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it
against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one
out-"scratch!" how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright
light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was
really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was
sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass
ornament.
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